Bonnie and Clyde
by Kerfect
Summary: Not all is what it seems.


**_Bonnie and Clyde_**  
Title: **Bonnie and Clyde  
**Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Not all is what it seems. As requested by **foxxcub**   
Fandom: Lost  
Dedication: to **halfway2home** for the beta and the title and**halfdutch** for organizing the ficathon. I hear they're hard work.  
A/N: the idea of the con was borrowed from Neil Gaiman's "American Gods"

Jacque LeBon was laying out the pendant-and-earrings diamond set for his morning buyer, Ms. Silvia Staton. She was a personal shopper and stylist for she-who-must not-be-named-under-the-penalty-of-death. With the Oscars coming up in just a few months, all of his most valuable pieces were going like hot cakes on a cold, winter night.  
Ms. Staton strutted in around nine in the morning. Her perfectly pressed and starched suit lay on her as if made right on her body. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and there was light, professionally made makeup on her face. 

"Mr. LeBon," she said, smiling warmly, "may I see the pieces again?"

"Certainly, Ma'am," he answered, opening the sterling silver jewelry box lined with black velvet. The pendent and the earrings shone with iridescent light.

"These are absolutely gorgeous. They'll go wonderfully with her Jean Paul Gaultier dress. Stylish and not flashy. Oh, I'm sorry. I do hope you won't tell anyone what she's wearing to the affair." 

"Certainly, Ma'am. I wouldn't dare." Jacque smiled to himself. Such a juicy bit of information would be worth quite a bit if leaked to the right people.

"Alright. Here's the twenty thousand. Just like we agreed last time." Ms. Staton pulled out four stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills from her purse. Fifty in each. "You may count them if you wish." Jacque eyed the stacks of money a little hesitantly. He was not used to dealing with such a large quantity of cash. In fact, if pressed on the issue, he'd confess that he finds cash distasteful all together.

He superficially counted the money, slipping them under the ultraviolet light to check for the water mark. It was there.

Ms. Staton closed the lid of the case, looking pleased. Jacque prided himself on pleasing his clientele. Jacque LeBon was one of the best in the business. Starlets flocked to his boutique like a heard to pasture. 

As he was wrapping the sterling case for Ms. Staton, a blond man in a shabby suit walked in. Jacque wrinkled his nose at the thought of this man as a potential customer and was thinking up of a delicate way to let the gentleman know that this establishment was way, _way_ out of his league.

Jacque didn't get a chance as the man spoke first.

"Katie, Katie, Katie." Sly amusement and mock-disappointment marred his words. "Up to the old tricks I see."

The façade of the cool and elegant Sylvia Staton cracked before Jacque's eyes. She rolled her eyes putting her hands on her hips.

"Why Detective Flynn, what a non-pleasure it is to see you here."

The man laughed. "Jacque, right? What you're looking at here is this century's most gifted counterfeiter. Let me see the money that she gave you." 

Jacque pulled out the crisp stacks and placed them on the counter. Now that he thought about it, they did look awfully fresh. 

The detective looked at them with the eye of an expert. 

"Yep, yep…see here? This tiny smudge?"

Jacque looked. "I don't see any smudge."

"Oh come on, Jacko, right here." He jabbed his finger in the middle of the freshly printed bank note. There wasn't any smudge.

"Oh yes, right there." Jacque spoke with a foul taste in his mouth. Smudge or no, nobody wanted to look like a fool in front of the NYPD. 

Katie plunked in a chair.

"I think you know this part," said the detective turning to Kate. "Kate Sinclair, you are under arrest for counterfeiting and larceny. Anything you say…" Jacque tuned him out.  
How could he, Jacque LeBon, be fooled by a pretty face and a stylish suit? And this man, this lout, knew better than he did. He felt positively faint.

The detective was about to lead this Kate woman out in handcuffs when he turned to Jacque, "I'm afraid I need the fake notes and the jewelry as evidence. Of course, I'll give you a receipt for it courtesy of NYPD. You'll get them back within a month at the most." Jacque nodded absentmindedly.

"You're doing a great service for your country, son."

The detective walked out with the jewels, the money and the elusive Ms. Sinclair.

When they were safely in their car in the alley behind the store, Sawyer undid Kate's tightly woven bun. "God, you look like such an uptight, cold bitch with it," he said, nuzzling her mouth.

She laughed. "As long as you know better," she said, pulling him to her.

"That was a flawless job, 'Ms. Staton.'" He kissed her, smudging the carefully applied makeup.

"You too, 'Detective Flynn.'"

"Where would you like to go, darling?" he asked, undoing her white-starched blouse.

"I don't know," she said, arching into his inquisitive fingers. "How about Australia?"

Afterwards, when they were about to board a plane to Sydney, Kate asked, "Tell me, were the bills really counterfeit?"

Sawyer smirked. "Please, I picked them up from the bank that morning."


End file.
